#badtrigger

Spring is Here!! Send 🐰 for me to assign your muse a woodland critter!

He's BIG, he's STRONG, he MAKES ME FEAR FOR MY LIFE, he's a....

BADGER!!!!!!!!!!

[Meme I Can't Find from @badtrigger for Mays.]

❝ What happened ? ❞ ------------

"Fuck if I know ... " The fingertips Thera rubbed against her brow came away bloody. She paused, frowning at them, then with a scrunch of her nose reached up to prod at it again. "That should probably hurt more than it does ..."

Adrenaline, maybe? Who knew? Or both cause and effect of the same foggy thoughts that had her sitting ... somewhere. A crate? Something.

... Fuck, she was going to have to go to Medical, wasn't she?

She knew it was a Recom looming behind her just from the shadow, like a tree blotting out the light; picked the voice as being Mays before she looked up to confirm. Reassuring, in a way, for both the solid Marine presence and the notion that since she'd guessed right, maybe she wasn't so rattled after all.

"I was s'posed to be taking a Wasp for recon ... " A vague wave of reddened fingers toward the aircraft landing pads, "Just got here when something ... blew up." Accident? Sabotage? The inherent animosity of the planet reminding them they were not welcome? Too soon to know. Thera remembered getting up, heading in to help, but the space between then and now, butt propped on a box, was a blur.

Every day is like this, really. Everyone always looks at her like that, she always has to repeat herself or rephrase. Always puts in all the work to bridge a connection. But it's hitting especially hard today. Even Hayes seemed annoyed with her before she even woke up. It's the kind of day that used to end in childish destruction of cult property, but she has no such outlet on Rook.

Eden is much to strong to curl into a little ball and cry. She's far too smart to see any benefit in sobbing in her bed. So, instead, she makes her way out to the water. A nice little river within shouting distance of her cabin. The fact that someone looking for her could easily finds her eases some of the worry that breeds from rest.

Shiny black boots are discarded gently, left in a pile with her outermost layer of clothing. Eden adjusts her modified boxers with one hand, using the other to scratch at her collar bone where the wrap around her chest meets skin. Her clothes need a wash too. Maybe after a quick swim. When her mind straightens out.

The sun-warm water welcomes her happily, ripples and waves lapping at her tattooed skin as she steps through a practiced path on the river floor. She stops in the middle, only half submerged. Algae catches her toes, rocks scrape at her soles, small fish rush past out of fear of getting eaten. It's the most peaceful her surroundings have been in a month and it's still not enough. Something roars between her ears, a dull scream beating on the walls of her skull. God himself is yelling at her for something. Something her aching brain can't seem to conjure.

Eden sighs, pulling both hands out of the water to run over her head, wetting her hair and dripping down her face. The droplets are uncomfortable, touching her far too gently to feel like anything other than an itch. Rough hands scrub harshly over her damp face, trying to soak the uncomfortable wetness into her skin or shed the irritating layer. She doesn't notice Vaas until he speaks, the familiar voice making her whip around to address him.

She knows he's aware her work is done, she reported it directly to him, but the dread of being caught with her pants down throws logic somewhere into the jungle.

There is a dead man walking these halls, talking, and laughing, and staring, and Mayu knows not whether to kill or kiss him.  A dead man, or so she though, a part of her life that was supposed to be nothing more than a faint memory, a bittersweet taste at the back of her throat. A ghost haunting her dreams.

And yet.

It's not him. He can't be him, because he is dead.

And yet---

For Mac, no, Malcolm (Mac is dead), it seems nothing has changed apart perhaps from his own self; no longer human, save for a few strands of DNA. For her, everything did. It’s odd, hard, trying to reconcile mere days with long years; so she doesn't. Avoids him like a plague, keeping herself busy, which isn't particularly hard with her workload — the Board always demands more data, more information, more prospects for profits and expansion, more, more, more — and his schedule — always on duty, a soldier in life and death.

But she can't run forever, if only because her position demands otherwise. And he's one of the few recoms she's willing to work with.

@badtrigger said: flower, sender gives receiver a flower. // tse'sar!

As Skorakstxey navigated through the corridors of Resistance HQ, the memories of his past among the Tawkami flooded his mind. He recalled the reverence with which his people regarded Pandora's biodiversity, their deep connection to the land and its flora ingrained in their very essence.

Amidst the chaos of war, the sight of Tse'sar, a member of the Aranahe clan, brought a sense of familiarity and comfort to Skorakstxey. Though their paths had not crossed much before, their similar heritage bound them together in solidarity against the common enemy.

When Tse'sar extended a delicate flower towards him, Skorakstxey couldn't help but be transported back to his days among the Tawkami. He remembered the rituals and ceremonies that honored Pandora's flora, the delicate balance of life that sustained their people.

"Thank you," Skorakstxey murmured, his voice tinged with nostalgia as he accepted the flower. In Tse'sar's offering, he saw a reflection of the reverence for nature that had been instilled in him since childhood—a reminder of the beauty and fragility of Pandora's ecosystems.

As he held the flower in his hands, Skorakstxey felt a renewed sense of purpose stirring within him. In Tse'sar's gesture, he found hope for a future where Pandora's biodiversity could thrive once more—a future worth fighting for, no matter the odds.

A WONDERFUL WONDERFUL JOB DONE BY  @badtrigger ON THIS MOST BODACIOUS AND RIGHTEOUS OF COMMISSIONS OF VALE ENTROPY

the merc raised an eyebrow as someone stepped in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. blue eyes lifted to meet brown as she found herself face to face with vaas montenegro. ah -- the leader of los piratas. it's been a minute since v's fucked with any gangs -- although she's still tight with the mox -- she's not in the market to start trouble ( not this way, anyway. . . ). but she's also not exactly in the market to be told what to do either.

" hm. don't remember you. thought i know all the bouncers 'round here. " valencia flashed a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. those eyes were taking a moment to study vaas -- trying to figure out how fast she'd have to move to dodge him. she acted unbothered, though, folding her arms in front of her, leaning into a hip. v might not yet be the best known just yet -- she at least thought she was pulling some street cred in the bars. ugh.

" got biz back there actually. don't like to keep clients waiting so. . . get the fuck out of my way, maybe? "